


Leech Jar

by craigstalldaddy



Category: South Park
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-10
Updated: 2012-05-27
Packaged: 2017-11-05 03:29:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craigstalldaddy/pseuds/craigstalldaddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Unknown encourages Wonder, and a place unknown kindled the want to know of it, even if wondering is dangerous. Damien & Pip, also Shelly, Wendy, Bebe, Red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many apologies for having upload this a second time. It needed fixing, the first upload was deleted. Enjoy.

A most delightful sunshine was casted unto the earth, and a day of pleasant weather blessed the small town of South Park. The snow was melted and a pleasant spring had taken place of the bitter and harsh cold. Girls, boys, and everyone in between had begun to shed their heavy layers of clothing for much more spring-appropriate garb. Students had already returned from their spring breaks, which was plagued by the remaining chills of a vicious winter.  
                Pip, who was already finished with his schooling and was currently in the midst of a hunt for employment, had also felt the effects of the season. His cold attitude was melting like the snow, his sadness, caused not by the cold, was beginning to blow over, and he was, as a whole, feeling like a new man. He had begun to invite his close friends, Butters and Tweek, to join him on restless walks and pointless outings, and he had begun to make it a point to call his family in friends back in his home country of England. As Butters and Tweek were in a similar state of spring-fever, they would often take up his offers of outing and walks, and would even bring some of their own friends if the occasion struck. His English companions and family, however, were much different, and would never answer his calls or letters. Despite such, he kept his head high, and refused to take it personally, on the grounds that his friends and family had no reason to be angry at him.  
                One day, Pip had called Butters and asked him to accompany him on a walk. He declined, but did not disclose the reason. So, Pip called Tweek with the same offer, but, again, was denied for reasons untold. He didn't mind, however, and he was much too restless to stay home, so he went alone.

He had just finished his first lap around town when he stopped on the empty sidewalk as he saw a most beautiful sight, even more beautiful than the spring.

It was his love, Estella! Estella was his very first and only true love, one he met when he was very young in his home country. Oh, he was sure it was her, what with her familiar, wavy hair of gold, her cheeks as rosy as a rose, and her pink lips as perfect as perfection itself.  She smiled at him from her lady-like stance across the street, waving to him with her perfect, delicate hands of pale. But, as soon as Pip could smile and wave back to her, she turned and continued walking down the way Pip had just come. A breeze Pip was too mesmerized to feel blew her hair and dress. Oh yes, it was surely her – she was wearing Pip’s favorite dress. It reached her knees, a length much shorter than most of her dress, and was a soft, beige colour with rows of softly coloured roses. The border upon the torso of the dress was ruffled, something that Pip often questioned the comfortableness of. Around the waist of the lovely dress was a small ribbon, tying around the front into a bow of a soft, purplish brown. It was a sleeveless dress, perfect for the sunny weather that had recently ensued in South Park, with only a soft looking strap to come over her shoulders to keep the dress in place. Indeed, it was a very pretty dress for a very beautiful woman.

This was quite a miracle to see her, as Pip had not seen her or heard from her in six years! Last he had heard, Estella had run away from home, taking not a single thing with her. Pip was determined to get her, and have her assure her friends and family in England that she was alive and healthy. Everyone had been so worried about her!

He hurried to cross the street, not bothering to look both ways before running to her. Quickly, she turned in between two houses, ignoring her admirer. Pip was quick behind her, calling out to her, “Estella, Estella!”

The beautiful woman turned back between two other houses, but, as Pip turned as well, she was gone.

“Estella?” said he. He turned around to look behind him, where he could only see Estella holding a police baton. Quickly, before he could even react, she smacked him on the head, knocking him unconscious. Pip fell unto the grass at her feet. Estella dropped the baton and fled.

…

A strange rumbling awoke Pip. It sounded similar to that of old, heavy machinery, but rested deep within the earth’s crust and managed to somehow give the grassy ground a faint trembling. As the young man touched his aching head and wiped the yellow hair from his forehead, he noticed how incredibly dark it had gotten. Disturbed, he picked himself off from the ground, only to notice that things were not as they once were.

While everything, even himself, was in the exact same places and positions, they were styled quite differently. It was as though he’d stepped into an English town untouched by life since 1860, and not in a flattering sense. The style of the buildings he had collapsed in between had a drastic change in style, and were no longer small, simple homes of modern day Colorado. They looked like the houses one would find in a small English village over a hundred years ago, and looked as though they were decaying. Dirt, vines, even some blood festered upon the walls of the ancient homes. While nothing had collapsed or appeared to be broken, it was very clear to Pip that these buildings had not been cared for, perhaps not even seen, in many years. But, when Pip walked out from between the two buildings and onto the pavement, he knew that it was not only the houses that had changed, rather, everything had changed. The pavement that made the street had aged, and so did the sidewalk. Cars were no longer there, but instead were replaced by horse-pulled coaches that sat untouched. What were once light bulb-powered lamp posts were now hanging lanterns. Not a single thing was out of place – everything was just styled differently.

_Perhaps it’s just dark. I’m just delirious,_ he thought to himself, unwilling to agree with the abrupt shift as a million horrid theories littered his mind.

With his head still throbbing, he made the decision to return to his apartment. This did not do him well, as it was very dark, and not a single person was around. As he began to depart from the place of which he had found himself, the sound from underneath the earth began to fade. Eventually, it was no more, and everything was absolutely quiet.

He made a timid and very precautious way in the direction of where his apartment would be if, in fact, everything was in the exact same place. Every so often, when things would seem a tad bit _too_ quiet, he would gaze over his shoulder and sweep the perimeter with a scrutinizing gaze. When it was decided that he was alone, he would look ahead again, and continue walking.

However, when Pip had made it halfway to his apartment, he noticed the first sign of life. It was a dog with fur two different shades of brown. It was about as tall as a young boy, with pointy ears and sharp canine teeth that hung out of its mouth. It also sported a French pink handkerchief, which seemed to be just about the cleanest thing around. Pip stopped upon seeing the creature, gawking at it as it scrutinized him with an air of calmness.

This was, doubtlessly, a neighborhood dog. Pip was quite certain that this was the pup of the childhood pet one of his former classmate’s had. He knew that he should not be worried, as South Park was a small town, and if there were any vicious animals around, that knowledge would have spread like a wildfire. This was not a vicious animal, not as far as he knew. However, that did not stop him from feeling intense dread and an agonizing sense of horror as he stood, only yards away from another creature in this redecorated town.

After what seemed like much too long and neither one of them had done a single thing, Pip crossed the street and continued on as far from the dog as he could. After a few doubtful glances over the shoulder and some trembling, he was sure that he was not being followed. When the dog was far enough that he was but a blur in the distance, Pip bolted.


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the paranoid venture went without anymore confrontations. Regardless, he was still very cautious, keeping almost literally on his toes as he treaded through the dark, Victorian twin of his town.

Even as he made it further from what would have been the town center of South Park, there was no change in the redecoration or disgusting nature. Every building stood tall and abandoned. Vines and ivy grasping unto the walls for dear life, the windows were either covered by blankets or pallets, or were completely smashed in with stains of something that may have once dripped down unto the walls around it. Unattended coaches still sat where cars should have been, and even began to appear in the middle of the road, the horses gone along with the passengers, placed so mysteriously that Pip almost wondered if they had spontaneously evaporated. He did noticed a few signs whilst travelling, but each sign was either too faded to read or smeared in filth or blood – sometimes both.

Eventually, he made it to the spot where his apartment building should be. Just as he had hoped, it stood unbroken or crumbled, but unfortunately bore the same amount of filth as everywhere else. It had once been a three-story building, wide and tall, with a basic and simple design and small, glass door. But, now, it was elaborately designed with a grand, wooden door with gold and surprisingly shiny trim. All the windows were boarded up with wooden pallets and 2x4s, vines and overgrowth crawled along the walls from the grassy ground to the roof. Two lanterns guarded the front entrance, lighting up the ever-so dark nighttime around them.

Pip hurried to the door, feeling a sense of salvation wash over him as he took the door handle into his thin, pale hands. He ignored the disgust, and was just glad to have found apartment intact. He pulled on the door to open it, and then frowned in horror as he discovered that the door was, in fact, locked.

He cursed to himself and reached into his jeans pockets in a panic. Once he found his keys, he shoved them into the keyhole, a deep sense of dread escalating inside him. Alas, the keys did not go into the keyhole. Frustrated, he threw them onto the pavement and stomped his booted foot. With a growl, he picked them back up and shoved them back into his pocket with defeat.

He thought very carefully of what to do next. A loud entrance was something that could get him killed by whatever possible guest lurked within the ruins of this town, as it was very clear to him that whatever did lurk within the shadows was most likely _not_ friendly – so a quiet one was in need.

He wandered around the building, peering carefully from behind to corners to assure himself free of any danger. When he was thankfully assured that nothing was waiting for him, he tiptoed, almost tempted to cling to the bacteria-ridden walls of the building. Occasionally, he would trick himself into believing he did hear something far off in the distance, and would accidently recoil to the wall. But then, he would grimace with great horror of what diseases the sleeve of his red shirt may have picked up. At one point during the painfully long venture along the extraordinary width of the building, he swore to himself that he heard a low growl coming from behind him. He whipped around with lightning speed, sweat on his forehead, only to discover that he was still alone, but also discovering as he turned back around, a new stain upon the elbow of his shirt – a long streak of aged, dry blood that made him wish to gag on his vomit.

The back of the building was quite possibly even more disgusting than the rest of the building. A dumpster sat overflowing with garbage and junk. Surprisingly, it was filled with quite normal things – pizza boxes, garbage bags, decaying food, and so on. There was even a pair of light pink woman’s panties, absolutely spotless and new looking with a white lace trim and a small, white bow just underneath it. Upon seeing them, Pip blushed. They reminded him of a pair he shamefully knew Estella had owned. Other than the dumpster, there was also a horrible overgrowth of weeds and vines. The weeds upon the ground reached to the calves of his blue jeans, making him hesitant of anything that may crawl at his feet. The back had a smaller, much more plain door, made of the same, old wood and shiny, new trim of gold. Pip wrapped his hands cautiously around the handle and twisted it. When it opened, he sighed in great relief, almost smiling as he shook his head to clear his thoughts. Sober and focused, he tucked his hair behind his ear and peaked inside the building.

 The inside of the building looked equally disgusting to the outside, if not worse. Candles in brass holders hung upon the walls, illuminating the pigsty of an apartment building just enough to see. Many different doors went down the wide, dully lit corridor. Each door was made of an unpainted wood, similar to the front and back door, with a likewise, faded, gold trim. Even more garbage rested around the room, papers full of words were scattered around, and even a small round table was thrown upside down. The staircase was closer to the front, with ancient looking clothes hanging from the rail and piles of rubbish resting on the steps.

Shuffling in and closing the door behind him as gently and quietly as he could, Pip scrutinized each and every corner very carefully, assuring himself that there were no others around. While there were neither people nor pets, there was what appeared like a black widow to be dwelling in the corner of the room. He took one of the candles, carrying it by the holder and shining it around to double check his safety. His steps to the staircase were slow as he struggled to keep his boots from pounding against the floor with volume, but just as he was about to ascend up, he noticed a key rack by the front door. He raced to the keys and investigated them. There was a single key, which Pip took without a second thought, shoving it into his pocket.

The third floor, his floor, was old and creaky, with a floor that moaned with every step. There were no lit candles to light up the room, and the darkness seemed to devour even the light from the candle Pip took with him. With a timid gulp and a hard frown, he raised his head and sneaked through the hallway. At what should be his room, the middle room, he took his key and tried to unlock his door. When the key did not fit, he took the key he had taken and attempted to drive it into the keyhole. Alas, it did not fit either. He mumbled a curse under his shaky breath and shoved the key back into his pocket. He jiggled the door handle, and cursed again when it still refused to open. He shut his eyes tight and banged his forehead upon the door. With a frustrated growl, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He quickly dialed in the first number he could think of – Tweek’s phone number. But, it went straight to voicemail. The phone was shoved back into his pocket as Pip pulled himself to together and turned away from the door to go back downstairs. He had to find Estella, firstly. Once he found her, _then_ he could worry about where the hell he was.

He could just barely remember how or when she had gone missing to begin with. All he could recall was it happening six years prior and she hadn’t been seen or heard of since. He knew everyone back home was very distraught about the events, but he thoroughly believed that he was the saddest. None of his friends or family had loved her quite like he had, or like he still did. The beautiful Estella was like a most radiant goddess, challenging the very Aphrodite in loveliness as she came down from the heavens to patronize and torment him with cruel words, verbal abuse, and rejection. She was very aware of this torment, she was! Brutal as her nature was, Pip always believed it was never her doing. She was raised that way, he’d always say. She never meant any harm.

With his love heavy in his thoughts, he reached the bottom of the staircase on the first floor, only to gaze up and find a woman standing in the doorway of the front door. The front door was wide open, her gazing out onto the road. Her wavy hair of gold rustled in a breeze unfelt by Pip, her dress of beige and floral designs caught between her delicate hands to keep it from blowing as well.

“Estella,” said Pip as he hurried to cross the distance between them. But, just before he could grab her by the arm and swing her around, she was out of the way and slamming the door in his face. He frowned and growled as his aching head throbbed with a new pain. After a quick moment, he recovered, and threw open the door to chase after Estella. Pip ran after her, just barely able to keep up with her. His fingers would occasionally touch her dress or the tips of her hair, but he could never grab her, nor would she respond to his constant callings of her name.

“Estella, Estella!” he would cry, no longer worried of any passerby noticing him.

But then, he tripped. With a new throbbing sensation in his ankle, his upper teeth sunken into his bottom lip, breaking the skin and causing him to bleed, and his form crashed upon the cold pavement, he peered up just in time to spy Estella, running into a building. The candle he had refused to let go of was on its side on the pavement, its flame extinguished. Though, that was the least of his worries. Pip hurried up on his good leg, wiping off the blood that dripped down unto his chin, and began a furious limp to the building she had retreated into.

The inside of this building was much different than the ancient, gloomy, Victorian setting of the outside, and, instead, had completely blank features. It was a bar, completely bland and colourless, aside from the small piles of rubbish and puddles of bloody urine. It was pleasantly furnished, though aged the furniture appeared, and everything was coloured white – the floors, the walls, the ceiling, the barstools, the bars, the doors, the booths, everything aside from the bottles and glasses, which were clear. It was well lit, too, assuring Pip that he had, perhaps, ran into somewhere completely different than the outside.

Pip stepped inside with caution, taking in his surroundings and wondering if Estella was still here. And then, he did, indeed, see a woman. However, she was very different from his beloved Estella. She sat in one of the colourless booths, her nose buried deep in a thick textbook. Her hair was pin-straight and a shade of black that could only be understood as dull in the lighting of which it was presented. Upon her head, she wore a purple beret, which served dutifully to keep her fringe hiding the sides of her face. The sleeves of her thin, lilac cardigan were shoved up sloppily to her elbows and her black sneakers tugged mechanically at the ends of her tacky, yellow skinny jeans. At her feet, underneath the booth table, sat a purple bag, which was fallen onto its side by the weight of her books.

Pip knew this woman. In fact, she was his neighbor in his apartment building. Knowing for a fact that she was a rather polite young lady, he took a step closer to her. When she still refused to acknowledge him, he said, “Wendy?”

Bidding him only a quick, careless glance before returning to her book, she answered, “Oh, you’re here, too.”

“Do you know where ‘here’ is?” asked he, “More importantly, have you seen a young lady come in here?”

“No,” said she, refusing to look back at him, “No.”

Pip slid into the seat across from her in the booth, a confused and horrible defeated scowl upon his face. In as professional a tone he could muster, he muttered, “Are you here on your own?”

“No,” said she. Her eyes rested, unmoving against the page of her book.

“Who are you with?”

“Damien Thorn,” said she, “He’s using the phone in the back.”

Pip frowned at the name. In a stern yet quiet voice, he inquired, “Does _he_ have any idea what’s going on?”

Wendy’s lips twitched just slightly at the question, but still, she sat unmoving in every other detail. Slowly, she answered, “I didn’t ask.”

He nodded. His gaze fluttered all around the room, quickly taking in all the blank details. “It really looks different than the outside, doesn’t it?” said he.

Wendy replied with silence. Her lips twitched again and her eyes began to quickly scan the words on the page.

He stood from the booth and wiped off the rear of his jeans clean from whatever germs and bacteria may have resided on the seat from which he sat. “You said Damien Thorn was in the back, correct?” he inquired in a most averse tone.

“Yes,” whispered Wendy, her voice barely audible to even Pip.

“Wendy,” he breathed with concern, glancing back at her as her right hand began to reach for a strand of her hair, “Don’t worry. I’ll figure everything out, and we’ll go home. You wait for me here, okay? Don’t leave.”

She breathed in sharply, as if she were about to speak, but then breathed out slowly and stayed silent. After a moment, she gave a weak smile, and said okay.

Pip smiled with remourseful confidence as he looked away and began to make a steady amble to the only other door in the bar. His fingers wrapped around the white doorknob and, before he opened it, looked back at Wendy. She was flipping through the pages of her book, back and forth, and hitting the heels of her shoes together. For her, too, he decided, he’d figure everything out.


	3. Chapter 3

Pip was not _fond_ of Damien, not at all. However, he did not dislike him, either. While Damien’s reputation was a good one for only his mistreatment towards him in the third grade, he had long set his vendetta aside. He had not forgiven him, but merely accepted the fact that it would be much better if the both of them set aside a meaningless grudge of their childhood. In so, Pip had eventually managed to bid Damien a polite gesture here and there, as he tried so often to do with all people. However, these “polite gestures” would always end up a simple “Hello, how are you”, and would never amount to any actual conversation. That being said, Damien had never called Pip a friend, nor had Pip ever called Damien anything of the like, either.

With such thoughts in his head, Pip entered the back room of the bar where all the extra bottles, glasses, supplies, and otherwise were kept. The change in appearance compared between the actual bar and the bar’s backroom was overwhelming. It was like a rich business owner’s office, what with what could have been expensive pieces of art hanging on the wall. Pip couldn’t recognise any of the artwork, and they all seemed to have some detail or character pertaining to the demons or Hell. Despite the plethora of piss, blood and other disgusting slimes, which seemed the be the only real common factors,  the garbage that was left lying around, and the foul stench of decay, the paintings were in perfect condition, as if the storm of muck seemed to have missed the artworks entirely, however odd that seemed. The room was lit dully by a ceiling lamp that dangled from the roof pitifully. Not a single person was in his sight, but then again, much of his sight was blocked by a large amount of crates that sat stacked on top of one another. The crates seemed to have once had red print upon their sides, but it was long faded.

Pip bit his tongue and tried to push his pessimistic mindset away from him. Ready to blame Wendy, he sucked in a breath with trepidation, then, he called, “Damien?”

“Yes?” said a voice, one he knew as Damien, coming from behind a tall stack of crates.

Keeping his distance, Pip glanced behind the boxes. Damien was most definitely behind them, working busily with a corded phone with its receiver mounted on the wall with two cell phones in his other hand.

                Damien was a short, broad, young man with a constant air of classiness and intimidation. His eyes were piercing and knowing, but the rest of him was simple and actually quite boring. His short, dark hair came down in a standard, short crop. His eyes were dark, boring, and held no unique or ethnical shape or quality. His face had long lost its boyish shape and turned mature and hard, much like his voice, which had once been an intolerable shrillness, but was now tame and manly. His growth was quite agreeable, something Pip was always secretly jealous of.  
                "Pip?" inquired Damien as he quickly shoved one of the cell phones into his pants' pocket.  
                "Damien," uttered Pip, raising his hands with a stern sense of control as he spoke in a tone most serious, "You see everything in this place differently, right?"  
                Damien frowned and said, "Differently, how?"  
                As he threw his arms agitatedly to his sides, he said, "Everything looks like some twisted nightmare version of South Park! Surely these bloody puddles of piss and rubbish weren't here this morning!"  
                "Relax," said Damien, "Yes, I see it like that, too. Have you seen anyone around? You and Wendy are the only people I've seen in this place."  
                At this, Pip composed himself. With a deep sigh, he said, "I saw a young woman. Her name is Estella; she's an old friend of mine."  
                "Where is she?"  
                "I haven't got a clue. She ran in here, but when I came in after her, Wendy told me she hadn't seen her come in."

Damien frowned again as he thought for a moment, rubbing the nape of his neck with his hand. After a moment, he moved his hands away and folded them politely across his waist as he said, “Is Wendy still sitting out there?”

“Yes, why?” asked Pip, cocking an eyebrow with suspicion.

“No reason,” said he, quickly adding, “We should find your Estella. You said she ran in here last?”

Pip nodded.

“Come on, let’s go out the back and see if she’s around,” instructed Damien, gesturing for Pip to follow him.

Pip followed closely behind him as they retreated out a door he hadn’t noticed beforehand, putting a piece of abandoned brick between the door and its hinge for a quick escape, lest it be needed. When he stood back up and turned to Damien, he could help not but notice a change in setting between the back and the front of the bar. The front had been old fashioned, “old” referring to over a hundred years old, yet the back of the bar was old fashioned in a sense that it merely belonged to the back of an office building in the late 70’s. There a plethora of signs, fliers, and plaques, unreadable now due to the amount of filth and the faded nature of the text. He ignored them and stuck close to Damien as they continued.

Even Damien seemed tense. His body was stiff. His eyes scanned the entire area with care, scrutinizing every last detail of every last piece of space. He took tentative steps, and it was obvious to Pip that he was in a constant wavering of decision – move or don’t? His nervousness only made Pip grow hesitant as well, and within only a minute or two, Pip had joined him in darkly inspecting the area around him. Pip had mixed feelings on this careful inspection, for he deeply wished to see what dangers Damien saw, but he also most definitely enjoyed the possibility of neither of them not having time to contemplate the agony they’d feel from their attacker before it could actually happen.

Eventually, he grew more comfortable and was able to take more than a single step at a time, but still kept on his metaphorical toes. This, in turn, also calmed Pip down as well. They had made it five buildings away, but everything looked the same. Everything was either rubbish or well upon its way to becoming so. Plants grew wickedly upon the sides of buildings, in between the cracks in the concrete, and all around. It was still very dark, their only light source being small lamps upon the sides of the buildings beside the back doors. Their light was dim, but the two bothered not complaining.

But then, the ground began to make a strange sound, one very similar to the one Pip had heard when he had awoken. It was not loud; rather, it was a gentle and soft sound. It sounded like distant machinery, or perhaps like an old AC unit as it worked loudly beneath the earth’s crust. It hummed just loud enough for them to notice when it had began and make them stop in their tracks. They stopped by a tall and narrow building, of which was not very different than the others. A single window was made into the building, exposing its dark, seemingly abandoned viscera. As the sound grew louder and they stood, Damien asked, “What does Estella look like?”

“She’s very womanly,” said Pip, “She’s pale and delicate, and she has blonde hair and rosy cheeks.”

He then grew very still. He grabbed Pip by the wrist and tugged him behind him, wordlessly. His expression grew grim and full of anticipation, yet he said naught.

Pip struggled to smack Damien’s hand from his wrist. When he was released at last, he stepped in front of him and gave him a most criticizing glare. He muttered in a scolding tone, “What’s wrong with you? Are you trying to break my bloody wrist off?”

Damien’s gaze was hard on something in the behind Pip, unmoving to meet anything else. This agitated him, causing him to clench his teeth and groan as he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. When Damien still refused to acknowledge him or so much as move his stare, he barked at him, “Move!”

Without budging his gaze, he turned his head toward Pip, leaned close to him, and gave a most discomforting command. In a soft, composed tone, he whispered, “Look behind you.”

He did so, but quite immediately wished he hadn’t.

There, not too far off in the distance, stood a young woman. She was petite. Her jacket of forest green hung loosely upon her frame, leaving her bony, right shoulder uncovered as the neck slung around on her forearm. She wore no shirt underneath, revealing a bit of her cleavage as it hung, zipped only most of the way up. The sleeves were pushed up to her elbows to reveal the dirt splotches, and handprints made of purple and yellow bruises and dry blood. Her jeans were black and folded up to her knees, thus exposing her hideous legs, thin and bony to an unhealthy degree. They, too, were littered with splotches of dirt, bruises and dry blood stains in the shape of handprints, and then some scrapes upon what could be seen of her knees. Her hair of brown was messy and knotted, spits of blood and mud and pieces of sticks and leaves were caught within its tangles.  Her head hung to the side, her lips curved just barely into a bored frown, her brow was relaxed, but her eyes were wide and distressed as they gazed only at Damien.

Her presence invoked very different reactions from the two young men as they watched her, watching them. Pip gazed at her with healthy pity. His eyes reflected a longing to help and aid, yet he dared not. His lips curled into a frown, his eyebrows pulled up to complete a sympathetic expression. Still, he dared not move from Damien’s proximity.

Damien, on the other hand, could look at her only with a feeling of being intimidated. His hand found a place upon Pip’s back, right between his shoulder blades, where it gripped his shirt in an insecure grasp. His other hand tightened into a fist as his side, his fingernails dug painfully into his palm, tearing into the skin and allowing for just a pinch of blood to touch his fingernails. He bit his lip, causing his pearly, white teeth to go get blood on them as well. A minute or two passed, no one saying anything, no one moving, and then finally Damien leaned over to Pip yet again and whispered unto him, “Do you know her?”

“Do I,” whispered Pip, almost laughing, “That’s Kenny’s little sister, Karen, 5 years his junior. How do you not know her? Weren’t you a companion of his?”

He said naught. Rather, he took a step towards the building. But, just as he did, Karen broke into a fit of laughter. He paused and looked back her with horror, only to spot Karen chortling oddly. It did not so much as sound odd, but moved her oddly. It made her throw back her head, moved her shoulders up and down forcefully, and caused her to suck in deep breaths every so few guffaws.

Pip dared take a step closer to her, but Damien kept him near with his grasp upon his shirt. However, Pip’s movement invoked yet another reaction from her – she threw her head forehead to hunch over her feet as she vomited loudly onto her grubby boots. He said unto her in a disturbed voice, “Karen, are you alright?”

Damien pulled him closer, unclenching his fist and instead grabbing Pip’s arm as gentle as his stiff fingers could allow.

“Karen?” said Pip. As if in response, Karen’s vomit turned to bloody spit. She coughed it out onto her vomit, some even got on her clothes, but still her hands remained at her side, and all she did was heave.

While Pip was stalled with disgust and perplexity, Damien wasted not a moment to hurry away, tugging Pip in tow as he began to fumble with the door to the building they stood by. With only a moment’s delay, the backdoor was thrown open. Pip was thrown in, Damien following him inside and slamming the door shut behind him.

Pip recovered quickly, but still grimaced as he covered his mouth with his fist. Sickened, he said, “Did she make you that ill?”

Damien shook his head, but said naught.

The building was in shambles. Store racks were tossed onto the floor, spilling their contents and allowing them to decay into rubbish. It looked as though, judging by the contents of said rubbish, it was once an old book store, selling books exclusively on religion. Old movie and band posters from a similar era were hung messily upon the walls, looking extraordinarily out of place. It was surprisingly well lit, and the front entrance remained uncovered, allowing them to peak out to the streets of South Park. There was another door to the men’s right, left open by only a crack. Damien inspected it, noting how the other room was dark, with only a flickering light inside. He gestured for Pip to step closer, and the two of them listened and peaked inside.

Through the crack, they could only see a dark room and a television that turned on and off repetitively. They could hear soft mumbling, feminine and bland, joined by a woman’s voice, curt and brusque. The sound of a glass container opening echoed throughout, and then quickly sounded again. The woman’s voice immediately hushed and the television remained on, but from what the two men could see, it was only static.

Damien scooted closer, but in the process, hit the door open. They watched with horror as the door opened wide, revealing a slight frame sitting at a television that only showed static. It was tall and feminine. One of their hands combed through their hair, a vibrant red, the other was wrapped around their waist. They slowly turned their head, looking to the two men with a frightened, apprehensive expression. Quickly, they mumbled in a womanly and insipid tone, “Which one of you knows a woman named Avisham?”

“Do you mean Havisham?” said Pip, taking a single step into the room.

“Isn’t that what I said? Avisham?” they said again.

Damien sighed and said, putting great emphasis upon the H, “ _H_ avisham.”

They laughed nervously, rubbing something unseen that rested upon their lap, and said, “What an accent.”

“What about her? Is she here? Tell me!” cried Pip, taking another step inside. Damien kept steady behind him.

They sucked in a breath as though she were about to speak, but then looked unto Damien and breathed out slowly. They gazed unto him with wonder. When Damien looked at them with a grimace, they said, “Aren’t you Damien Thorn?”

He hesitated, but reluctantly answered, “That’s correct.”

“I’m sorry.”

Damien pushed Pip out of his way and stomped over to them angrily, shouting at them, “What does that mean? What you are _sorry_ for?” Roughly, he grabbed them by the shoulder of their shirt and forced them up from their seat upon the floor, turning them around to face him. Their hands secured themselves around a white container, holding it for dear life.

Their eyes were wide and petrified as they cried out, “No! No! I mean nothing!”

Pip hurried to Damien’s side, stepping in between them and pushing him away from them. “Relax, relax,” said he to him, and then to them, “Please, tell us of what you know about Estella?”

Once Damien was away and Pip was facing the red-haired person, they said, “Was Estella her name? Yes, she didn’t say anything about you.”

“She didn’t?” said he, disappointed.

“No. She said something about England, though. I think she mentioned not going back.”

“I would never make her go back!”

They gave a sudden gaze of interest. Then, they said, “Are you her brother? I thought your sister was way older than you.”

Pip shook his head and muttered, “No, she’s an old companion of mine. I love her very dearly.”

“Oh,” said they, “I can see why. I think she said she was headed towards Hell’s Pass.”

“A hospital?” Pip inquired, “Why is she headed there?”

They shook their head and replied, “She didn’t say. Hurry, though. Oh, but wait, I have something for Damien.”

Damien looked over to her curiously, but said naught.

They reached into the pocket of their skirt and pulled out a cassette tape. They held it out for him and told him, “Kenny told me to give it to you. I don’t know why.”

“I don’t even know who that is,” said he, eyeing the tape with perplexity, “Do you have a cassette player?”

They shook their head.

Pip groaned impatiently, “Damien, we have to go find Estella, _now!_ I don’t want her to get away from me. I need to know what happened to her.”

“What happened to her?” asked them.

“She ran away six years ago,” said Pip, “No one’s heard from her since then.”

“Oh.”

“Nice to see you, then. Thank you for your help,” said Pip as he shook hands with them and led Damien quickly out of the room and then out the front door of the store.


	4. Chapter 4

 

The front was just as Pip remembered it, and still it bothered him, relentlessly. Damien reacted with agitation, scratching his arm and scowling at the features.

Upon seeing this, Pip asked him, “What’s the matter?”

He scowled at an abandoned coach, but said naught and only shrugged.

The two traveled on the pavement, in between the coaches and close together. Barely comfortable and restless, Pip often shifted his arms from down at his sides to folded across his chest to his hands upon his hips to his hands within his pockets, never seeming to be quite satisfied by his posture. Damien, on the other hand, kept his arms folded across his chest, awkwardly itching as his elbow.

All was still dark and dreary. It had to be around two in the morning, Pip thought. He took his phone from his pocket and quickly checked the time for assurance, but grimaced with disbelief at the clock. With a firm shake of his head, he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

But then, Damien asked, “What time is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Pip mumbled, “My phone’s clock must be off.”

“What did it say?”

“That it was three-forty-two in the afternoon.”

Damien balled his fist, but let his go. He didn’t say anything in return.

When they made it to the hospital at last, Pip was thrilled to see that the building was still standing tall and wide. Vines and rustic age climbed along the walls, the letters that made up the sign were old and faded. Some of the windows were smashed in, others were covered with pieces of wood and metal, but only a few of the windows sat unbroken, and still the glass was decayed and disgusting – it was seeable from the outside. Even the grass that carpeted the earth around it looked old and decayed, having turned yellow, or simply to dirt. It looked like a place out of a horror movie, a place no one could lucidly say they wanted to go. So much that Pip almost asked his companion why Estella should ever want to go there. He sucked in a breath, gazed at the building skeptically, but then gasped, and said, “There she is! Red was right!”

Estella stood before the tall door of the building, her back faced towards the two men as she touched her thin hands to it with care, as if it may evaporate if she be too rash.

“Estella!” cried Pip as he busted into a sprint after her.

She stealthily opened the door just enough for her to slither in, shutting it loudly behind her. Pip grabbed the door handle and tried to open the door, but it refused to open. He shook the door violently and screamed out with irritation. Lividly, he kicked the door and bashed his fist against the wood. He screamed out, “Estella, open the door!”

Damien grabbed him by the shoulders and pried him from the door. Evenly, he told him, “Relax, we can find another way in. Calm the hell down.”

Shoving his hands into his pockets with a scowl, he calmed. But then, he gasped again and said, “I have a key! I don’t know if it’s for here, though.”

“Try it anyways,” said Damien as he stepped aside.

Pip took out the key from the apartment building. Taking in a deep breath, he attempted to use it. The key fit, much to their amazement.  He turned it and bit his lip. The locks clicked, and the door unlocked, invoking a glad smile from them both. With the door unlocked, Pip put the key back into his pocket and opened the door and held it open for Damien.

The two entered hesitantly, closing the door behind them as gently as they may possibly do.  The inside was lit dully by a single fluorescent light from the ceiling. However, it shone bright enough to expose the brutality and austerity of Hell’s Pass. Paint began to peel off of the walls. The linoleum floors were destroyed and pulled up from the floor, thus exposing the concrete underneath it. Debris and other rubbish decayed upon the floors and the old, plastic chairs. The air reeked with a foul odor, that of piss and blood, strong enough to cause Damien cough violently.

Pip ignored the stench and inspected carefully. When Damien’s coughing was hushed, he called out, “Estella, where are you?” There was no response, but as Pip’s voice echoed in the room, underneath their feet, the earth began to rumble again from somewhere else in the hospital. They hushed and listened.

“It sounds like it’s coming from the back,” said Damien with wonder.

“I don’t care,” growled Pip, “I just want to find Estella and get the hell back to the real world.”

“I think this is as real as it gets,” replied Damien, “Even so, we have no idea how to get back to how things were.”

The rumbling grew louder and closer. A loud bang sounded from down the hall, followed by a shrill scream. Pip turned to run in its direction, but Damien caught him by the shoulder and held him still. Pip attempted to pull away, but Damien was unyielding. He growled and kicked Damien, yelling at him, “Estella could be hurt, you ass!”

“Or it could be some bleeding psychopath,” whispered the other harshly.

This pulled Pip back to his senses, invoking him to drop his stressing fists down at his sides. It was then that he realised the subtle infuriation and terror written in his companion’s features. His brows pulled together with horror, and his nose wrinkled with disgust. His eyes looked at everything except for Pip, and had a fire burning within them. Pip could feel every bit of anxious hatred that radiated off his fellow man, and suddenly he had figured out why he deduced such a thing.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?” asked Pip, a hint of taunting within his voice.

The other hesitated before answering, “Why aren’t you?”

“I don’t know,” said Pip, “But we really do need to find Estella. Please, let me look.”

He hesitated again, then shook his head and sighed with a defeated demeanor. He said, “Fine, but it’s your fault if we die.”

Pip snorted and said, “I’d prefer it no other way.”

The two went down one of the two hallways, the one that led to a corridor for different patient rooms. The hallway was much longer than either of them could exactly recall, and still, rubbish collected on the floor. The white paint peeled, aging to a very nasty, very slimy looking yellow. They reminded him of a woman he used to know, one of whom was so untouched by development, only making acquaintance with decay. The thought of that woman made his head throb again. He held his head in his hand and tried to stop thinking of her as they continued down the hall, but the memory of her yellowing dress, her whitening skin, haunted him from his memory.

They walked slowly and carefully. They stood close enough to each other that their arms rubbed together as they walked, but no one dared recoil away. As they walked, Pip could not help but notice the sound from underneath the earth grew louder and louder, just as loud as it was when they found Karen.

At the end of the hall, there was a single door. It was left open, thus revealing a much wider, darker room. Peeking out from the room, however, was Estella. She stood tall, twisting her curls within her hands as her fringe covered her eyes. She stared down at her feet, tapping the toes of her shoes together. Her left stocking, white and unstained, were torn from the inner thigh to her knee, and a small gash on her right arm, bleeding lightly.

Pip’s expression turned hopeful and yearning. He smiled at his love’s form, his shoulders rose as he took in a delighted breath of air. “That’s her,” whispered he, tugging on Damien’s arm.

Estella threw her arms down roughly, tossing a small splash of blood from her wound onto her feet, which instantly stopped tapping together. Her fists were balled, but she said naught and motioned no more.

Eagerly, her admirer called out softly to her, “Estella, what happened to you? You’re bleeding.”

“Don’t even ask!” she bellowed, her voice strong and ear-shattering, her accent thickly English and posh. Her volume caused the two men to back away with fright; she even shook her own frame with such a cry. Without saying another word, she turned away and vanished into the dark room. Pip hurried to chase after her, but the door shut in his face before he could slither inside. He threw himself at the door, desperate for it to open. He jiggled the knob, he smashed his fist against it, but he could not get it to open. After countless tries, he slumped down onto the floor and cried out, “Estella, what is the matter with you?”

Damien watched him with pity. He grabbed his other by the arm and gently pulled him up to his feet. He jiggled the knob, and it opened. Pip wasted no time and pushed his companion to the side to get inside, calling out for his lover, “Estella! Estella?” Damien followed him inside, but was then horrified by what awaited them.

People they recognised, people they were friends with, sat within the room. Damien distinctly saw the face of Kyle Broflovski, who had once been his neighbor, Tweek Tweak, who owned South Park’s only coffee shop, and 5 others, all surrounding a single person who sat with their head in their hands in the middle of the room. No one was specifically deformed, but they were not at all the same, neither of them were normal. Their faces were unsightly pale, their eyes were dreadfully empty, and their figures were starved and lightly bloody. The person in the middle was the only one who was not abnormal, and looked merely miserable. They had bright red hair, a womanly figure, and held a jar upon their lap. Immediately, the two men knew it was the person from the music store. Yes, they even had the same ankle-length skirt coloured the same blue, and the same navy blue cardigan. They even sat the same as in the movie store.

“Red?” asked Damien.

The use of their name caused them to look up in horror. They quickly grabbed the jar and pressed it tightly to their chest, protectively. The other people looked up, too, but with a much different emotion than fear.

“You need to get out right now,” whispered Red.

Bidding only enough time for him to suck in a breath, one person ran at them, the other followed. Damien and Pip retreated out the room, shutting the door behind them and running as fast as they could down the hall. The sound of earthed machinery grew ear-splittingly loud as the townsfolk chased them down to the waiting room. But, as they reached the waiting room, they discovered three more people – Richard Tweak, Stan Marsh, and Ike Broflovski.  They, too, lunged themselves at the two men, chasing them up the second hallway. The ten of their attackers screamed and howled, one of them even screeched inhumanly. Pip almost found himself in tears, and he swore he saw a tear or two from Damien’s eyes.

Eventually, Damien made an act of quick thinking, and turned sharply into a room, pulling Pip with him. Faster than it felt, he shut the door and locked it. The two men backed into the room fearfully as twenty hands clawed, smacked, and rubbed loudly against the door, wishing to break inside. The two men clung to each other in agonizing fear; they held their breath in their lungs and told themselves it was over. But then, the unbelievable happened – they stopped attacking the door. The sound of machinery underneath the earth faded into the distance, and when it was gone out of their line of hearing, Pip finally breathed again.

Damien, on the other hand, was not so easily at rest. He scrutinized the room, checking every corner. The room was narrow with tall shelves on both sides. The shelves were stocked with boxes, bags, and strange medical equipment. Dirty needles sat in a pile on the middlemost shelf, dirty bandages sat in their packages sat unopened, and much, much more. When he was absolutely sure that nothing resided with them, he breathed out in relief. He looked over to Pip, who looked back with an adrenaline-flushed grin. Damien smiled back at him and laughed stupidly as they crashed into a hug. “I can’t believe we’re alive,” chuckled he, lowly, as he squeezed his companion.

“I’ve never felt so happy to be in a closet,” laughed the other as his face squished against Damien’s chest.

The two tore apart and fell into a lazy sit upon the floor. He was still winded and wheezing as he ran his hands through his hair and continued to tell himself he was still alive. He threw his head back and set his hands down in his lap. He fell calm, but just as he did, an old, boxy thing fell unto his face from the uppermost shelf on his side. He panicked, throwing it off of his face and standing up from his seat. When it didn’t move or make a sound, he picked it back up with caution. It was a small, dark rectangle, covered in dust and dirt.  It had six buttons, all the same colour black, except for one red button. It had a small slot for a tape, empty and full of dust. Quietly, he said, “It’s a cassette player.”

“That’s coincidental,” said Pip, “I hope it still works.”

“I didn’t throw it that hard,” muttered Damien, taking the tape that Red had given to him and putting it gently into the slot. Hesitantly, he pressed the play button.

At first, the only sound from the speaker was static. It played for almost a minute before a soft, insecure laugh faded in, followed by a young, masculine voice saying quietly, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” said a low, curt voice, one easily recognizable as Damien’s, “You know I hate it when you apologise for things you don’t need to.”

“I know,” said the first voice, “I didn’t know what else to say. You know I’m bad with words.”

Damien’s recorded voice sighed and replied, “I know. You shouldn’t be though.”

“If I could help my flaws, I would. At least I’m looking for help, right?” they paused and laughed slightly, “I bet I’m getting in the way of you and him, aren’t I?”

“No,” said he, curtly, “You know there’s absolutely nothing in his part.”

“You’re both just as lonely as the other,”

“What?”

For a small moment, the voices cut out and a small spit of static washed over them. When the static was gone, the first voice said quietly, “told me this town is for lonely people.”

The static filled the tape again. It played for a minute or so, and then the tape ended.

Pip looked to Damien with a teasing grin. Humorously, he said, “And you said you don’t know Kenny. And who ‘him’?”

Damien glowered, offended. Quickly, he said, “I _don’t_ know Kenny! I don’t remember this conversation! And I don’t know what ‘him’ he’s talking about!”

“Well you obviously knew him at some point,” said Pip, “Because that is most definitely his and your voices.”

“That makes no sense,” muttered he.

“Nothing makes sense, here,” sighed the other.

Damien thought for a moment, and then said, “I kind of want to find out, though.”

Pip looked at him like he was mad for a moment. Then, he laughed, “I just want to find Estella and assure everyone back home she’s safe. Maybe I could even ask her why she left to begin with.”

“You really like her, don’t you?”

“More than anything,”

Damien sighed and said no more.


End file.
